The Customer Is Always Right
by ilovetvalot
Summary: When Garcia accompanies Dave shopping, hilarity ensues. TWO CHAPTERS
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: ATTENTION, READERS AND AUTHORS - we're rapidly drawing near the close of our first annual Criminal Minds Profiler's Choice Awards. WE CURRENTLY HAVE ****ONE**** DAY LEFT TO VOTE FOR OUR FAVORITE AUTHORS AND STORIES. Please remember to try and spare a few moments over the upcoming days and VOTE for your favorite authors and stories in the "Profiler's Choice Awards" at "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. You have through the end of November 30, 2010 to let your voice and vote be heard, and we want to hear from each one of you. If you don't know much about forums, links can be found through either my profile (ilovetvalot) or my awesome co-author (tonnie2001969). Please send your votes to the PM listed in the rules (found on the forum) or your ballot can't be counted! Remember, anyone that wants to help advertise the awards has our unending gratitude, and there is also a short blurb you can use on our profile pages.**

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**Also...since we deeply appreciate everyone who has voted and will vote...we are also giving away another $5 gift card to a lucky voter that we will draw randomly. This could be voter number one..seventy-four...or three hundred! Both gift cards will be sent by email, so you don't have to share any personal information to claim your prize! We will notify the winners by PM when the awards are complete.**

**We also want to take a moment and remind all those participants that have signed up for the Criminal Minds Christmas Fic Gift Exchange that we have just over a month to complete our gifts and publish them for our recipients. If anyone has any questions, please contact us via private message.**

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* * *

**The Customer is Always Right**

**Chapter One**

David Rossi was convinced of one thing. Hell was a busy shopping mall on Saturday afternoon in suburban DC. And the devil had taken human form.

Her name was Penelope Garcia.

He had to get out of here, he thought as he skirted yet another soccer mom pushing a stroller down the busy aisle of Saks. Struggling to keep up with Garcia's brisk pace as she speed walked through the bustling store, he was resolved to beg, borrow or steal his way out of this predicament. "Kitten, please," he whined, wincing as his shoulder came in contact with a wayward hanger, "I can just where something already in my closet. Trust me, I attend these functions all the time. All it requires is a black suit."

"I've seen your black suit, Agent Fussy Pants. It's seen better days...heck, better YEARS. Besides, I have direct orders from JJ who has direct orders from your publicist. It's time for a new look."

"But I like my old look," Dave grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Haven't you heard? Faded jeans are in this season."

"You cannot wear faded jeans to be honored by the Literary Society of America," Garcia explained for the fifth time as she skirted around an aisle display. Hearing his snort behind her, she glanced over her shoulder. "Hey, talk to your publicist. I'm just filling in for a friend here."

"By acting as the Menswear Gestapo?" Dave grunted, dodging a kid on wheels. Eyes widening, he turned around. How was that kid ROLLING in sneakers? Shaking his head in bafflement, he refocused on the woman ten steps in front of him. Hurrying to catch up to her, he pleaded, "I'll buy you a new iPad, no questions asked, if we can just blow this Popsicle stand."

"Got one," Penelope said succinctly.

"A new Blackberry?" Rossi bargained, grasping for anything that would allow him to buy his way out of pop culture purgatory.

"I've got an iPhone preloaded with all my favorite apps," she said, holding her neon pink phone up for him to see, dangling it in front of his nose.

"A puppy?" he offered weakly, rubbing his hand against his forehead as he felt a migraine set in. "Just think of those big puppy dog eyes and a wet nose pressed against your hand."

"I'm allergic," she shrugged, waving cheerily towards the saleslady as they entered the men's section.

Well, crap, Dave thought, glaring toward the woman as she began flipping through the racks of men's suits hanging on the wall. "Garcia, I really don't think this trip is entirely necessary. I'll just call my tailor and..."

"And you don't have time for one of your custom made suits to be tailored, Agent Procrastination. Your gala is in two nights. Sorry, Peaches," she said over her shoulder, "but, this time, it's the three words every fashion snob hates to hear. Off. The. Rack," she added, suddenly plucking two suits of the iron rails and swinging them in his face, dropping the clothing over his head.

Spitting out a mouthful of silken shirt, Dave stuck his head through the clothing. "Not that I don't totally admire your eclectic taste...I mean personally I think of you as a style icon, Cara…but do you really think that you're the woman to take on this project?"

"I promise not to use any fuchsia or feathers in my schematics," Penelope swore solemnly, turning and raising her right hand in the air.

"Gee, thanks," Rossi mumbled, shifting the clothes in his arms as she marched down the aisle, her shoulder bag swinging wildly.

"Don't thank me yet, Moneybags," Garcia trilled, jerking a couple of ties from the rack she passed. "You've never seen what I can do with sequins."

Shaking his head in horrified stupor, Rossi trailed behind the shapely backside in front of him, attempting not to wince every time she added a garment to the pile building in his arms. "I thought we were just getting a suit," he whined, frowning as she added a pink and gold golf shirt to the attire in his arms.

"I've caught you in my web, said the spider to the fly," Garcia drawled evilly. "You've nowhere to run, Agent Incredible. We're going for a whole new look today."

"I like my current look," Rossi argued, halting as she suddenly paused in front of a table filled with brightly decorated silk boxers. Watching as she plucked an obscenely vivid yellow pair adorned with a smiling happy face, he shook his head firmly. "Absolutely NOT!" he hissed defiantly, his shoulders straightening. "This Italian prefers _au naturel_."

"Really," Garcia drawled, eyes widening as she turned to smirk at him. "Now there's a tidbit I'm definitely filing away for future use," she said, tapping her temple as she let her eyes drop to the area below his waist.

Rossi was saved from reply as both heard a cultured voice ask, "Hello. I'm Mindy. May I help you two find anything today?"

"Can you tell me where your positive attitudes are located?" Garcia said, her voice cheerful as she turned to face the elegant saleslady in front of her. "My friend, here," she said, thumping Rossi's arm, "seems to be channeling Negative Nellie today."

Smiling, Mindy nodded as she bent her head regally. "The men are often our most challenging customers."

"Don't I know it," Pen sighed, glancing at Dave as he rolled his eyes dismissively. "But, actually, Mindy, we're here for a masculine makeover."

"We are NOT!" Dave objected, poking Penelope in the side with a pointed finger, juggling the stack of clothes on his other arm. "I agreed to one suit. Preferably black."

"Pay no attention to the monkey behind me," Pen winked at the salesgirl. "I'm thinking more 007 and less," she said, glancing behind her at Dave and raking his body with a practiced eye, "...less the Godfather."

"Hey!" Rossi yelped indignantly. Now she was slamming on his favorite movie? Did this venomous vixen have no limits? "I happen to love the Godfather!"

"I know," Penelope said with a sweet smile that didn't quite meet her eyes. "And so does your wardrobe...especially your choice in suits."

"But..."

"I'm thinking a nice gray...silk, I think. And if that isn't possible, a nice navy blue." Penelope informed the lady before them. "Anything but black. When he's in black, I always look for him to pull out a gun and start capping bystanders."

Suppressing a giggle, the lady nodded. "Your father's size, Ma'am?"

Eyes dilating, Rossi sputtered, "Father?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **

**THIS IS IT, FRIENDS - THE FINAL DAY TO CAST YOUR VOTE FOR THE FIRST ANNUAL CRIMINAL MINDS PROFILER'S CHOICE AWARDS ON FANFICTION. NET. YOU HAVE UNTIL 11:59 pm EST ON NOVEMBER 30, 2010 TO LET YOUR VOICE BE HEARD! **

**LINKS TO THE FINAL BALLOT CAN BE ACCESSED THROUGH "CHIT CHAT ON AUTHOR'S CORNER" FORUM OR LINKS LOCATED ON EITHER MY PROFILE PAGE (ilovetvalot) OR MY CO-AUTHOR'S PAGE (tonnie2001969). **

**Please send your votes to the PM listed in the rules (found on the forum) or your ballot can't be counted! **

**Want to win some free Christmas cash? We're giving away a $5 Amazon gift card to the 200th voter in the Profiler's Choice Criminal Minds Fanfic. net Awards (funded by the moderators). We have well over one hundred voters already, so who knows...you could be the 200th and win the awesome Amazon card!**

**Also...since we deeply appreciate everyone who has voted and will vote...we are also giving away another $5 gift card to a lucky voter that we will draw randomly. This could be voter number one..seventy-four...or three hundred! Both gift cards will be sent by email, so you don't have to share any personal information to claim your prize! We will notify the winners by PM when the awards are complete.**

**We also want to take a moment and remind all those participants that have signed up for the Criminal Minds Christmas Fic Gift Exchange that we have just over a month to complete our gifts and publish them for our recipients. If anyone has any questions, please contact us via private message.**

**And finally, we'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for their continued support of our stories. We truly appreciate each review, favorite, alert and private message. It means a lot to us. Please let us continue to hear from each of you!**

* * *

**The Customer is Always Right**

**Chapter Two**

"Oh," Garcia replied cheerfully, slapping a hand on Dave's stiffened shoulder, "Daddy-O is a..."

At that point, Dave realized he couldn't hear anything above the ringing in his own years. Father? That woman thought he was Garcia's dad? Sure, he'd played the role of Sugardaddy more than once in his life, but...

"Agent Starstruck!" Penelope called, shaking his arm vigorously. "Earth to Rossi!" she called in a sing-song voice as she poked his cheek with a sharp nail.

Finally shifting his incredulous gaze to Penelope, Dave shook his head. "I'm leaving," he muttered, trying to foist his armful of clothes into Penelope's hands. "I refuse to stand here and be insulted..."

"OH, puh-lease," Garcia muttered, rolling her vibrant eyes. "That chica was what? Twelve? I look old enough to be her mother to her. Did you NOT hear her 'ma'am' me?"

"But..." Rossi sputtered, shaking his head violently.

"No ifs. No ands. And absolutely no BUTS. You and I are not vacating the premises until you've been new and improved to MY exacting standards," Garcia said sternly, doing an impressive imitation of a drill sergeant as she dumped the apparel back into Rossi's arms. "Now, buck up, Sailor. We've got work to do!" she continued, turning him physically toward the dressing rooms and patting him on the butt. "Go start trying things on while I get the suit from Barbie," she said, gesturing toward the saleslady's retreating back.

Ten minutes later found David Rossi grumbling under his breath and shoving one of his long legs into a third pair of jeans. How the hell had he gotten himself trapped in this mess? Hell, hadn't he extracted countless victims during hostage negotiations? How was it that couldn't manage to escape one lone shopping mall?

His answer came instantly in the form of an unexpectedly opening dressing room door and a low whistle of approval from behind him. Freezing mid-movement, Dave lifted his head, his eyes dilating as he met Penelope Garcia's wicked eyes gleaming in the mirror. Please let this be a trick of a rapidly aging mind, Dave prayed silently, squeezing his eyes closed only to open again a millisecond later.

Nope, she was still there. And now she had her head canted to the side and a predatory smile painted against her lips. Oh, dear God, Dave begged his deity, let this be some kind of alcohol induced dream!

"Well, well, well, my Very Special Agent Rossi, whatever have you been hiding from the Oracle? I don't recall seeing that ass in anything you've worn before," she teased, her voice light.

Jerking the crisp jeans over his hips, Dave glared into the mirror. "I never took you for a Peeping Penelope, Garcia!" Dave accused, flushing as he attempted to button his jeans.

"Then you obviously don't know me quite as well as you thought you did, Stud," Penelope shrugged, scooting into the dressing room and closing the door behind her.

Turning, Rossi frowned. "What the hell are you doing in here?" Dave said, his voice almost a whimper as Garcia filled his arms with a couple of suits.

"Supervising," she replied brightly. "And, if I'm honest," she grinned, "enjoying the floor show. I ought to get SOMETHING out of this excursion."

"I am NOT stripping for you," Rossi proclaimed stridently, crossing his arms over his chest as he faced off with the fashion fascist currently standing between him and freedom. "I do have some civil liberties left, you know.

"Not in Penelope's Purgatory, you don't," Penelope said with a shake of her head. "Now, take it off, Agent Inhibited. We've got work to do," she stated resolutely, taking a seat on the narrow bench behind her and eyeing him with a watchful eye.

Growling in frustration, Dave ran a hand down his face. He could not kill his co-worker... He could not kill his co-worker...he could not...

"You know," Penelope said indifferently, settling her flowered skirt around her legs, "Morgan makes those same noises...they don't work for him either. In fact," she smiled sweetly, "they only feed my powers."

"Oh for Christ sake," Dave groaned, shoving the jeans off his hips, offering Garcia another glimpse of his ass. Hearing her soft hum of approval he ordered gruffly, "Close your damned eyes, you perverse pervert."

"If you insist," she retorted with an indelicate snort, cracking one eyelid as he lifted a leg to step out of the jeans, then stealing a covert snapshot of Rossi's ass with a calculated click of her cell phone. This was definitely a picture she wanted preserved for posterity's sake, she mentally cheered. Emily and JJ would definitely appreciate her prowess.

"Garcia," Dave said, his voice low and suspicious as he eased the soft slacks over his hips, "Did you just take a picture of my ass?"

"Hey, you'll thank me in a few years when all your flags are sagging," she giggled, her fingers clicking away on her iPhone.

"My flag will be flying high and proud for many years to come, thank you VERY much," Dave hissed, turning sharply to glare at his so-called sage of fashion advice.

"I can see that," Penelope said, struggling to keep a straight face. "In fact, it's flying in the wind right now," she said, nodding toward the open fly of his pants.

"Mother of Christ," Dave gasped, dropping his gaze to his crotch and blushing a vibrant beet red. "You are a danger to yourself and everyone around you," he accused, backing into the wall behind him and fumbling for his fly as she rose gracefully and advanced across the dressing room toward him. "Back, woman!" he yelped as she drew closer, grabbing a hanger from the peg on the wall and thrusting it between them, waving it wildly. "I'm armed, Kitten," he warned, brandishing the plastic hanger like a weapon.

"Oh, you most certainly are," Garcia agreed, dropping her eyes to his groin and wriggling her eyebrows. "Now, I know what all the fuss was about."

Horrified, Dave stared helplessly at the vixen in front of him. Would this humiliation ever cease?

Watching as the great David Rossi's complexion went from crimson red to milky white in a mere heartbeat, Garcia took a small measure of mercy on the floundering man in front of her. "Oh, relax, my Little Has-Been Lothario, you're safe," she crooned. "I just want to try these ties on you," she said, holding up her hand in what she hoped was a non-threatening manner and showing him the items in her hand.

Dropping the hanger to his side abruptly, Dave barked, "HAS BEEN?"

Biting her lip as his face morphed from shocked to offended, Garcia barely suppressed her laugh. "Weeeellll, you haven't exactly been the randy Romeo you once were, now have you?"

"Hey!" Dave muttered, plucking one of the ties from between her fingers, "I've STILL got it, Kitten. Don't you doubt THAT!" he demanded, turning and throwing the tie around his neck with a vicious flick of his wrist.

Uh oh, Penelope thought belatedly, it appeared she'd taken one jab too many at the fragile ego of one very masculine Italian Stallion. "Now, now," she clucked, reaching around his shoulders and brushing his hands aside as she began to knot the navy blue tie around his neck, "I didn't mean it like that. Of course you've still got IT. You just haven't been...exercising it quite as frequently."

Meeting Garcia's gaze in the floor length mirror with heated eyes, Dave warned, "Kitten, unless you want an object lesson in the middle of Saks, shut up. Just because the equipment doesn't get used quite as frequently, doesn't mean I don't know how to operate the machine quite proficiently."

"Is that so?" Garcia drawled insolently, tightening his tie and smoothing the cool material of his suit jacket over his shoulders.

Blood pumping furiously in his veins as he met her eyes in the mirror, Dave knew when he was being dared. And there was absolutely no mistaking the challenge flashing in the bright gaze of the woman behind him. Mild attraction and affection had somehow been twisted into a hell of a lot more in the space of a few hours. And one conniving siren was entirely responsible for the transformation. And as he turned to face her cunning smile, he realized that he'd been managed...maneuvered… into this scenario with a practiced hand.

"You set this up, didn't you?" he asked, his voice deep and dark.

Shivering as she watched his flashing eyes darken, Garcia smiled benignly. "I don't know what you're talking about, Agent Rossi," she said, blinking innocently. "But," she said, raising a finger and tapping his stubborn chin gently, "IF I did, would you say it worked?"

Cocking his head and narrowing his eyes, he retorted, "Why don't you come over here and find out, Kitten." Raising one dark brow, he added in a husky seductive whisper, "Or are you afraid to put your hands where my suit is?"

Twenty minutes, a cracked mirror, four broken hangers and one scandalized saleslady later, both Penelope Garcia and David Rossi had the answers and clothes they'd been searching for.

And in tacit agreement, both decided that being shopping buddies together had been a very mutually satisfying experience. And one that they would probably be repeating again in the very near future.

After all, Dave was certain he also needed new pajamas.

_**Finis**_


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